A seed of light drifts into flesh,
Drawn by causes, spun by winds unseen.
Form is the vessel, frail yet vast,
A raft upon the endless stream.
Desire is the loom that weaves the veil,
Memory whispers of lives before.
The wheel turns, never resting,
Bearing me where I have been before.
Eyes open to the sorrow of birth,
Yet also to the fragrance of rain.
To breathe is to suffer,
But also to touch the morning sun.
Incarnation is not a prison,
It is the teaching written in flesh.
Each wound and wonder a sutra,
Each tear and smile a verse.
To awaken is to step beyond the wheel.
O Lord, You have built the heavens with wisdom,
The earth rests upon the pillars of Your counsel.
The rivers run because You have spoken,
The mountains stand because You have decreed.
Teach me to number my days with understanding,
That I may walk in the fear of Your name.
Gold and silver vanish like smoke in the wind,
But the word of the Lord endures forever.
I sought delight in gardens and palaces,
Yet my soul hungered for the bread of Your presence.
Many sons have strengthened your house,
Yet unless You guard it, the watchman wakes in vain.
Give me a heart inclined to mercy,
That I may judge the poor with fairness.
For wisdom is brighter than the morning,
And Your truth shines beyond the stars.
Blessed be the Lord from everlasting to everlasting.
Too raise up Kings and throw them down.
A covered bridge once spanned across
this deep, dividing stream
and anxious reverence filled the thoughts
of all to trek its way.
Wrought iron bolts held taught and fast
this might of chiseled beam
as shingled roof and clapboard wall
held brevity at bay.
It stood the days when horses drew
their harvests to the mill
that lay beyond the river’s weir,
along the channel stride.
Its wooden slats were burnished clean
by spindled wagon wheels
and planks would whimper hallowed moans
as wind and stream collide.
Its stalwart strength held stoic
as a darker day encroached
and bore this Nation’s burden when
Her war was in its prime.
And some still hear the cannon wheels
engrave as they approached,
and Brogans pounding cadence as
formations march in time.
As time will do its passing drew
the strength from timbered bone,
and soon it came to call upon
this faithful trodden friend.
Two hundred years of lumbered toil
gave way to man-made stone
so, generations still to come
could bridge divides again.
.
deep in august
my love top thuh hairy
dry grass
'gainst
rust
'gainst
my
'gainst
her i
every inch uv
her hot
It was four am when I entered Colorado Springs Airport. Darkness of the sky was kissing the lips on the face of the mountain. Right around sunrise after I had my morning cappuccino I saw the sight that would speak to my mind and heart. The words came from Pikes Peak. The mountain was red and looked like the flesh of my Red ancestors. A cloud was coming from the mountain in a grey color. I kept thinking of Chief Red Cloud and Chief Crazy Horse on how they lived and wondered what the last thoughts they had before entering into the spirit world. No rain was there, and it would not be until the plane would leave for me to travel to Atlanta and then to the Old World.
I could hear the mountain speaking to my spirit. I was in awe, but in fear of my life. I was making a change that would affect me for the rest of my life. I heard music in the background that I would later come to know as Novis by Santana and Placido Domingo.
After seeing the photo of my plane taking off from my mom, I realized that this plane was the missile (mi-sigh-al) that would change my spirit. It sure did as I am now a world traveler. I have not fear of the air.
I wake—
each dawn
a slender promise
shoulders gilded,
by hesitant sun.
The world, wide as longing
real as the air I breathe—
crests of mountains waiting
horizons keeping their counsel.
My heart, uncertain…. ventures
like a melodic wind carried on—
searching for a sign
where wonder grows wild within.
Between the strums of my old guitar
and laughter in morning dew
I surrender:
each note of yesteryear
kindles today’s quiet lesson
A single osprey rises—
a brushstroke across blue morning
its wings folding around me.
The summit is not a distant peak—
but something brightening inside
Love lays a quiet hand
on places still becoming
healing as patient
as a meadow’s slow green showing
Each blade a testimony
to what endures.
From deep inside me,
between the first prayer
and the stillness after waking,
I find myself turning—
in the rhythm of becoming
the quiet rhyme
of being.
So I walk—
with songs for company
promises for courage
letting the day reveal its poem
one grateful step
where hunger and holiness
are the same ground.
.
back thuh butterfly
flutter'd
take'n notice uv
mine
flap
flap
flap
in thuh slow motion
her wingz
her thick
softly land'in
top mine dome
latch
unto thuh lock uv
mine tresses
flap
flap
flap
in slow motion
'side mine
hear
her wingbeat's
breeze
hover'n
mine thinks
.
she'z not thuh
b!tch
az in
woof woof
yet
az this once coon
uv mine
through thuh thickets
mine
hern(hugz)
followz
not az in
sniff sniff
yet
through thuh thickets
mine
hern(kissez)
followz
Nigeria, our homeland
Our heritage, One nation
Numerous ethnic groups, differ people
Different cultures and beliefs
They all practice what they believe in.
Africa, our continent
Our pride, rich culture and history
Different countries, so many languages
Different religion, different understanding
Everyone keeps defending their religion and nation.
The Globe, our world
Universal culture, Unites all
Different continent and colors
Different languages and obligations
Same source of life, but different God
Everyone stands for their race and against their opposition.
For the blessed fruits of the blessed tree of life’s being,
Persecution and crucifixion have their time in life’s seasons;
Their demise coming with seasons of resurrection and ascension:-
Seasoning of life from Genesis to Revelations, has its time;
Let us ever be mindful that we’re fruits of God’s balboa tree of life,
With a quartet of years to sow and cultivate our seeds of justice:-
Thus, it’s time to get plowing and uprooting unjust seeds
Sown in the God given riverside just soil of His trees;
Indeed, as faithful garden balboa trees of God given life,
May we be in the blooming of ripe fruits His coming justice:-
May our plow sheds be ever fully stocked with tools of courage
And faithful determination, cultivating us with God sent liberation:-
And while trials and tribulations may endure for grueling nights,
Let us be bearers of fruitful mornings;
Indeed, let us be as the fruiting sun in joyous dawning liberation,
And let bigotry be as a waning moon:-
What does AMEN means to you?
A- ALWAYS trust God for He is the director of your paths
(Proverbs 3:5-6)
M- Miracles happens when F.A.I.T.H. (Favor As I Trust Him)
(Hebrews 11:1-6)
E- Every step is guided by the LORD
(Psalm 23:1-6)
N- Nothing is impossible with God through Christ
(Luke 1:37)
“For this is the confidence that we have in Him, that, if we asks anything according to His will, He hears us and if we know that He hear us, we have the petitions that we desired of Him.”
(1John 5:14-15)
Remember: FAITH is Favor As I Trust Him and FEAR is Fault Evidence Appearing Real. Which do you believe?
In the quiet morning light I see
the deep oshanas breaking round
like a boundless oasis that is bright
and the echoes of the cattle happily resound.
Manna of the north is planted
and the mielies grow around the homestead
harrowed as the family toiled
the soil swallows the breeze of the drizzle ahead.
Oh, how peaceful northern life
its addictive memory is unerasable
as the sun tiptoes towards the West
and the herder's whistle resurges in the lovable forest.
O’ sweet the rain drops heavenly spaced
Amidst the glaze of sunlight kiss
I embrace the winds they surround me
O the visons of streams
Soars the aftermath
Soars the trees waving
Soars the birds leaving trees
Soars the air we kinded, kin we breathe
O sweet the air sore smells
O the sweet animals that dwell
O the visons of streams
O so solemn views we spy
O the cries of the lamb
Every way that is met
Every step that is step
O soars the cries of the wolf
O cries the screams of the lamb
O the visons of streams
Soars the aftermath
Soars the trees waving
Soars the birds leaving trees
Soars the air we kindred, kin we breathe
O the visons of streams
O’ sweet the rain drops heavenly spaced
Amidst the glaze of sunlight kiss
I embrace the winds they surround me
O the visons of streams
01/31/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025©
This is Africa
A land so bless
Naturally endowed
Different cultures
A peculiar continent
But everyday steady struggle.
This is Nigeria
Land of heritage
Very resourceful
Different traditions
But only the strong survives.
This is Delta State
The big heart of Nigeria
A prominent state
With several oil Cities
But the people can't afford it.
This is Sapele City
The city of humility
Very peaceful city
But no infrastructure
They steadily belittling the people.
(amar sakal dukher pradip)
Thistle Thal, My reverie floral, beyond the valley and greenery, handheld delight, the sun
Incomplete ritualistic my pain, meditation to be fulfilled in completion
Whence the day is done and the returning birds are back to the nest, very own.Bestowed
Dusk of the twilight hue heard the bell, still afterglow dispersing the beset, even though
Then my last log will be my solitary feast, the fire of the divine, my life
A festive fire will have my pliant knead, and a plethora of my remnants chime!
.Shinangan through shenandoah , knew us through delighted knickknack, canopy
The fullest brim is tossing and turning to greet you whence wilmette, wills met a noon
The festive fire will lit up starlight one by one , aurora borealis, the kindled and the boon
They’all a rise together to the superlative, in chorus, a hymn, on the eve, beseeching
The flight of a song , the sunset, and the reason, and the resilient passion of yearning !
Specific Types of Pastoral Poems
Read wonderful pastoral poetry on the following sub-topics:
death, elegy, love, nature, rhyme, sonnet
and more.
Definition | What is Pastoral in Poetry?